Wired
by Lunamaria
Summary: Ficlets. 7: "Merry Christmas, Sora."
1. keymaster

Note: This is pretty much just a short collection of short chapters recording the events and reactions of our trio's triumphant return.  
>*<em>Avissa and Calyx are the names I've chosen to call Sora's parents.<em>

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I.

"It's like a... a job," he says, turning his hands up. He looks away from her and to his side, keyblade lying beside him against the couch. Every once in a while her burning eyes just stop and glare at it, as though it were made of everything she truly and firmly believed to be evil. The fact that, conversely, it's pretty much an instrument of light is a conveniently discarded detail.

"A job?" she says, disbelief in her voice. Sora cringes. "Do you hear that, Calyx? A _job. _A job."

"Dear," Calyx says hesitantly, looking from mother to son. "Perhaps we should–"

"A job?" cries Avissa. "He hasn't even finished the ninth grade!"

"Mom, c'mon. I–"

With that, she lunges for the hunk of mystical metal. It reminds Sora of the many video games she's ripped from his gaming system mid-play, punishment gleaming in the blue of her eyes. This time, however, she means real harm. The keyblade blinks in and out from existent, coming to rest in Sora's left hand. Avissa blinks, astonished.

"It, it," she says wonderingly and stops. She stares intently at the Kingdom Key resting in Sora's clenched hand, eyebrows knitting together.

She says, childhood fascination brimming: "What else does it do?"

That is quite really the end of that.


	2. storm of lava

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II.

"I can't believe I have _seven pages_ to write on mitosis," cries Sora, raising his arms out at the injustice. "I once raced a magic carpet through a storm of lava!"

Kairi and Riku exchange amused glances. Behind them, Tidus and Wakka say nothing. They hardly follow anything the trio says anymore, but they shrug and laugh it off. Those three were always had the touch of dreamers, regardless of their puzzling new stories. It is a world that they cannot comprehend but, beneath magic carpets and magical keys, are their old companions. That is enough for the two friends. Really, it's plenty.

"You keep saying that," Riku grins, gesturing to the air, "but I've yet to see any poof."

Sora sputters, looking behind for support. Wakka and Tidus come up empty handed. What do they know about storms of lava?

"What was I supposed to do? It was a _storm_ of lava! And Agrabah isn't exactly a technological hotspot! Where was I going to get a camera… in _Agrabah_ during a storm of lava?"

"Pics or it didn't happen," Kairi says, a sympathetic hand on Sora's shoulder.

"It's alright, Sora, we'll buy you some ice cream," says Riku.

Wakka and Tidus follow along, just as they always have.


	3. insomnia

_"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you  
>because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places."<br>_

_- Roald Dahl_

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III.

"Even heroes have to go to high school."

At least, that's what the teacher had said as she introduced them to her wide-eyed classroom. Wide-eyed because it had been a complete year before Sora and Riku had shown up on the islands, and a couple of months for Kairi. Wide-eyed because, though hide nor hair of them had been seen, word of their exploits had been abundant. With everything that happened, Sora's name always seemed to be just hanging on the winds. Wide-eyed for, three years ago, who would have thought any of this possible? And, come on, to Sora? He was nice, but save-the-universe, _hero_ material? Who'd have guessed! Moreover, wide-eyed for the trio was, of all things, resuming their educations.

For numerous reasons, Selphie, flattening her ever-bouncing hair, was wary. She shifted in her seat to see Sora and Kairi at the head of the classroom, waving their hands shyly and dodging a barrage of loud and nosy questions. They insisted there was no story to tell that hadn't already been told through rumors and speculation, and that the details weren't worth the extrapolating. Selphie understood them to say, "It's a secret between friends." Just, you know, not in so many words. Even with an obvious interest herself, their teacher quickly informed them to find their seats and to please, for heaven's sake, cut the volume.

And that was how life, in large, resumed. Selphie had Kairi back and, naturally, Sora and Riku as well. It was a packaged deal, just as she was with Wakka and Tidus. And that was fine as far as it went, but they would talk between themselves, those three. In a casual circle, they spun wonders of Arabian deserts, underwater kingdoms and of wise little crickets, never mind that they could have been speaking an entirely different language for all Selphie understood of it. Tidus and Wakka, good natured as they were, took it all in stride.

Selphie wondered sometimes why they'd even bothered to return. They still kept up with old friends, but for the most part it was just them. Just Sora, Kairi and Riku. SoraKairiRiku, just like that. Just singing crabs and jungle men. The three who had gone on an inter-galactic quest to save the universe or something to that measure. They who had met kings and hooded evils. Well, fine. Selphie didn't need any of them, anyhow, especially not Kairi and her fancy red hair and shiny, shiny key-sword-majigg.

In fact, much to Selphie's supreme annoyance, it was actually the little things that kept adding up. It was those silly, inconsequential moments, those harmless remarks that drew the line.

Sometimes it would happen when they ate lunch together.

"Don't you think her ears look a lot like Dumbo?" Sora motioned to his ears and waved them around like a bird, a goofy grin on his lips.

Selphie just stared at him, her mouth parted slightly.

At her side, Kairi was holding in her laughter, cheeks deep red and words muffled. "That! That, I"–an unexpected snort–"_Sora!_ That's so true!"

To which Riku shook his head, rustling the hair from his face. "Not so. I'd say," he paused, positioning his hands on his head and waving them out, "more like Stitch."

And even when Sora and Riku weren't present, it seemed as though they were.

"Oh, Selphie, you should have seen it," insisted Kairi, sounding exactly as though she didn't really mean it.

"I mean, the world is so big, it's filled with more people than I'd ever imagined," she laughed. "And we've seen so much. More than we dreamed."

_We _wasn't Selphie. _We _was SoraKairiRiku, just like that. She felt the borders of their friendship closing in on her and, rather than plead for more details like any good girlfriend ought to do, Selphie began to file her nails.

And, greatest of these blows to Selphie delivered itself one night on the islands.

Since the vanishing of her best friend, insomnia had taken Selphie more nights that she'd liked. Her lack of sleep was evidenced in the lines, the indignant lines, that pooled under her eyes. She was less gracious to her friends, often snapping without provocation and found herself without appetite. She'd thought that once Kairi was back home that regular sleep would come, but her new behavior troubled Selphie out of sleep.

When one is without sleep at night, the islands offer a quiet, peaceful place to think. On many occasions, Selphie accepted the island's warming invitation and, on one such night, found herself with unwitting company.

Right above her, feet dangling from the pier and bodies awkwardly angled in an embrace, Selphie saw them.

"It's fine, Kairi," she heard Sora, voice low, whisper. He said it again. "It's fine, Kairi."

She apparently said nothing, so he insisted, "I won't leave you."

Then the muffled voice of Kairi, her face buried in the crevice of his neck. "I can't believe that."

Sora didn't deny it; his silence seemed to acknowledge her, even if it did not like to.

"We'll figure it out," he said, and Selphie found herself, in the darkness, with her head craned up at them. They didn't look anywhere but at one another and the moon was not particularly bright that night. Selphie didn't even try to hide herself.

He kept whispering to her, on and on: "We'll be together," "This is a long fight, I know, but Kairi, it's got to be done," "Kairi, look at me, please", "I won't let them hurt you."

The only thing Kairi ever did say, comforted in Sora's arms was this, and it puzzled Selphie: "I'm so afraid of the darkness."

Sora nodded his agreement.

That Kairi and Sora had _something_, Selphie had always known (everyone but them, in fact, seemed to know it). And she had once been sure at what it would become **–** a clumsy, youthful kind of love that they'd someday tell their children about, taking turns to add in the most inconsequential of details. But those two friends of hers, embracing and speaking before her, were not the people she'd dreamed of, not the _and the rest is history_ boy and girl she'd chalked them up to be. In the span of two years, they had become something more, more than she'd even thought they had it in them to become. They weren't children anymore. They were something Selphie had no name for.

Now that she thought about it, she'd seen it in Riku as well. Something mature and so far beyond her comprehension. At first she had just thought of it as Riku being a year older; he had always been more like an adult than a child, an edge to him. But it was something different, in the same way that Kairi and Sora were different. It was a distant kind of understanding, as if somewhere between sandcastles and homework they learned to look beyond themselves, to dig inside themselves to find the blueprints of an entirely different person. They were much too serious for Selphie's liking.

When she returned home that night and drifted off to sleep, confused with the words and the maturity and strangeness of her friends, Selphie dreamed that someday she might understand the importance of keys.


	4. bambi

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IV.

He takes the keyblade in his hands, demeanor carefully detached. She's stunned by him – the crispness of his outfit, the ease with which he carries his weapon, the casual way he lets the word slip into the air: "Firaga." It's an incantation really, and she finds that out too little, too late. In a blink, her office is aflame. The stack of official documents at the corner of her desk go up with a comical _poof_ and soon enough, there's not even a desk, let alone any more paperwork. Next go the curtains, then the plastic ficus drooping in the corner. He remains unscathed though, standing in the center of the room in all his heroic glory. She's speechless, so he takes authority of the situation.

"Why don't we let today's incident slide?" he says.

In a state of shock, she scurries to open the door for him. She nods furiously to him as he turns to leave, keyblade thrown casually against one shoulder. She assures him, a few stray hairs positively singed, that his record, as always, is free and clear. What lovely magic, have a nice day.

At least, that's how it plays out in his mind.

But what really happens is this:

Sora sits between his parents, the three of them lined up before Chairwoman Neel's desk. It's a bit like a stand-off, really. The chairwoman, hands bent, keeps her narrowed eyes fixed on Sora. Sora and his father look elsewhere while Avissa's expression insists, _You see what I have to deal with?_

"You can understand," says his father, "how hard of an adjustment this is for Sora."

It's meant to be an assurance of some sorts, but to Sora it just sounds like a suggestion. He leers at his father.

"And you can understand," the chairwoman says, "that we cannot have"–a pause here to collect her thoughts–"_magical_ deer running around my school, especially not to – bully other students."

Really, the chairwoman's a bit ashamed at that last sentence. In any other universe, she thinks, that last bit would have been a roaring joke. But here she is, chastising one student for using a supernatural fawn as leverage against another. It doesn't sit particularly well with her, but she trudges on anyhow. She's an educator, after all, no matter how taxed.

"You do understand," she says, and adds, "why this is a problem?"

"Of course, but as Sora was saying earlier," Calyx begins, pauses, runs a hand through his hair. "Sora?"

"It was gym," says Sora as way of explanation. As if that clarifies everything straight away, no harm done. His father leers, so he reluctantly amends: "It was an accident, actually."

No one says anything at this, so Sora assumes they mean for him to extrapolate.

"I was telling Tidus about Genie." Sora leans closer to his dad to say, "I've told you about Genie, dad. He's the blue one. And so he says I'm full out if. That I'm lying. Me, lying."

"Inconceivable," Avissa says without inflection.

"Riku and Kairi try and tell him off, you know, 'cause what does he know about blue genies, but then Selphie's defending him and it's just a big mess whenever she gets involved."

There isn't much explaining done here, because it's common knowledge what a fright the Tilmitt girl can be when she really puts her hair into it.

"So, I figure this – why not just show him?"

"Genie," supplies the chairwoman, eyes narrowed. She lays her hands against her very unburned desk, shuffling together a few of the documents she'd been looking over before the outbreak. The fawn outbreak. The _fawn_ outbreak. Heavens.

"His name is Genie, and he's a genie," Sora finally says.

She considers herself informed.

All the same, she's still trying to sort out what any of this has to do with the fawn in her school. So she says: "I'm still trying to sort out what any of this has to do with the fawn in my school."

Sora gives her a hard look then, as if he's not sure why the dots aren't connecting. He looks side to side at his parents and just shrugs.

"Go on, Sora," his father says, encouraging.

"So instead, out summons Bambi!"

"Bambi?"

"The deer."

"Yes, of course. Instead of Genie. The genie."

"Exactly."

After that, Sora attempts to explain the logistics of things. How one would summon a lion or an elephant, with a few in-between moments where he wonders aloud where things went wrong. As he goes on to explain, Tidus was less than impressed with the deer, which is perfectly reasonable when one is prepared to meet a blue genie named Genie (even though the deer, of all things, is a bona fied prince). Tidus was however, Sora assured, shaking in his bones with laughter once the fawn found his way indoors. All in all, he seems quite pleased with himself.

When it's over, Chairwoman Neel pinches her nose, exasperated, waves her hand dismissively. Defeated. "Two days detention. No more deer. No genies. Now, please, make yourselves scarce."

When the three of them take their leave, door safely behind them, Sora's father says, "I thought that went rather well."


	5. birthday

Note: This chapter is for Lattejazz. Happy Birthday, Nobodeh.

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V.

His parents were going to kill him. No ifs, ands or buts. It was inevitable, and so, with an ecstatic kind of resign, Sora took another swig before passing the bottle on to Kairi. She took it with a small smile, seized a drink and then handed it off to Tidus beside her. She brought a sleeve to her lips before slouching down into herself.

"But I mean, I mean, I mean," said Tidus, bringing the bottle to his lips, "what do you get the who boy has err'ything?"

"Hairclips," Selphie said helpfully, head in Wakka's lap. Wakka snored above her. "_Definitely_ hairclips."

"You know who needs hairclips, RIGHT? 'cause his hair is _out of this world_—"

"Oh, _shut_ up, Sora," Selphie said, waving her hand at him, "because if I _have_ to hear another story _about_ that genie, I'm going to"—she paused here, a hand to her stomach—"barf, just barf all over your _room_ and then _you'll be_ in for it. I had nachos for lunch, you _know_."

"So did Riku," Kairi pointed helpfully to the corner where Riku lay beside what was left of his lunch.

"His name is Stitch," Sora huffed at Selphie, snatching the bottle out of Kairi's lap. "Stitch. Stitch. STITCH." He paused. "My parents are going to kill me."

For emphasis he drew the bottle up, displaying the label for them to see. It read, _Star Fruit Whiskey_ with a caution underneath to drink responsibly. Sora took the last drink of the near-empty bottle before rolling it over to the other two they'd swigged.

"They're going to find out," he said, throwing his head down into his hands. "They _always_ know!"

Kairi lay her hand against Sora's head, giving it a reassuring pat. She said, "Did you really want hairclips, Sora?"

"Do remember that fawn, Sora?" said Tidus.

"Nachos," murmured Riku, face down in front of Sora's air conditioning vent.

"I didn't get you hairclips," Kairi said, sighing.

Sora lifted his head from his hands to see Kairi, and, pitifully, asked, "Will you ask me, Kairi?"

"Ask you what?" she said.

"Ask me about Stitch?"

Even in her daze, she was pleased by his silliness. She nodded. "What about Stitch, Sora?"

"He needs hairclips, Kairi. _He_ needs hairclips."

They shared a quiet smile, before Tidus struck Sora with his pointed finger, declaring, "That's what I mean! Look at you"—poke, poke, poke—"you have everything! A fawn, a sword that is also a freakin' key, a checkered bedspread! And hypothetically a blue genie! What am I supposed to get you? What!"

"Genie is _real!_" Sora wheezed, swatting Tidus' finger away.

Selphie rolled her eyes.

"Hairclips, Tidus," said Kairi, patting at her hair. "Hairclips."

For a while after that, they were all silent, with only Wakka's slumbering breaths and the curses under Riku's breath to disturb the quiet. Kairi sat between Sora and Tidus, and next to Wakka and Selphie, watching the clock against Sora's closet tick closer and closer to midnight.

A few seconds before the clock struck twelve, Sora brought his hands to his nose and sniffed, at last fully reconciled to his fate. His parents were going to kill him, but that was the way of things. He sniffed his hands again, and a little string of music played from down the hall, ringing in midnight.

He said, "I smell like Tarzan."

And they all said, again and again, "Happy birthday, Sora."


	6. this christmas

"_And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."__  
><em>_- Kurt Vonnegut  
><em>.

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VI.

"Last Christmas I was in Halloween Town with Donald and Goofy and Jack."

Sora says this gruffly at first, but as he shoves his feet over Kairi's and closer to the fireplace, he breathes a sigh of satisfaction. He loves the warmth, and no one complains that he's practically got the entire fire to himself.

"It was snowing." Sora reaches for the popcorn, popping one into his mouth before taking a handful to string. He adds, "I met Santa Claus, though."

Avissa and Calyx sit farther back, watching the friends. The calendar lays open to December 24th, and the biting temperature calls for fireplaces and oversized sweaters.

Calyx raises an eyebrow at Sora's Santa Claus bit, but you'd be surprised what a father can adapt to. Really, it's nothing compared to the genie. Avissa pats him on the hand before sipping her drink, something warm and smelling of Christmas. A bit of mint and apple. He glances back knowingly, because he understands that pat and her look and the way she stares at her son from across the room.

It's absolutely, positively nice.

His friends are there, Kairi and Riku and the other three, and there's movement and Christmas in the house. There is laughter, banter and choirs singing _Hark!_ in the background. Kairi admires the Christmas tree, all glowing lights and colored glass. Selphie had vowed it be "a vision of Christmas!" as she stepped in for the night, Wakka and Tidus just behind her. They'd removed coats, gloves, shoes and gathered before the fire.

They listen to Sora's stories, lounging against pillows and, you know, just so wonderfully comfortable. The five of them spend the night before the fire – talking, smiling, laughing and even singing along when the song about the twelve gifts filters through the house. Sora swears that, though he's never seen any turtledoves, he's met an owl – "He's named Owl, by the way," – that could probably spell the word Supercilious. Maybe even backwards.

Tidus and Wakka are suitably impressed, even as Kairi nudges Sora and says, "Showoff."

Sora's mother could just cry.

When the clock strikes midnight, practically singing _Christmas!_, there's a knock at the door. Calyx is closest, so he rises with a shrug to get it. There are three more knocks before he answers, and when he does, he's mighty glad that, as a father, he's especially flexible. With hardly a beat lost, he lets them into his home with a warm smile and calls for Sora.

As soon as they see each other, there's a rush in energy. Sora, half-risen from his spot, grins as he says, "Donald, Goofy!"

Riku says, "Mickey."

There is a commotion then. Hugs, many, many hugs, and even a few tears, but happy ones. There's laughter too, giddy laughter and even a moment where Sora leans over and kisses Kairi, pointing above him to bit of mistletoe he's caught her under. His looks is mischievous, but she just smiles and says, "Merry Christmas, Sora."

It's contagious, because then everyone is stopping and saying, "Merry Christmas," to one another like a prayer of thanks. One after another, thank you, thank you, Merry Christmas.

Avissa's standing under the mistletoe when Calyx comes back to her, just as the music hums low, _All night, all night divine.__  
><em>  
>"Merry Christmas, dear," he says, snaking an arm around her. The kiss he gives her is soft and gentle. It goes unnoticed in the frenzy of holiday wishes, but it's there and it's really quite nice. Avissa winds an arm around his neck, mug still in hand and, against his lips, agrees:<p>

"Merry Christmas, dear."


End file.
